Me,She and Our Cd-100 Bike

Some times back, I was in a restaurant for a business meeting, overstayed after the meeting, and ordered a DubJheenga (shellfish cooked in green coconut shell). The headwaiter, known to me earlier, suggested Fresh crab chilly instead. The item was on order specially for a small marriage party of a Biker’s club and he has some extras. The party had booked a table just few feet away. The lively group arrived one after another in their bikes and apart from songs and fun their discussions were on their bikes, the thrills, freedoms, the adventures and overall their love for their bike. I owned a Bike before and enjoyed their discussions. The discussions left a trail and made me to know about other bikers. This story is based on those discussions.

Before this, biking to me, a person in the field of mineral prospecting and exploration was a means to move in tough terrains where jeeps dare to go. Please read below for the complete story.

Utilizing the gaps between the Four wheelers, the short turning radius of my Hero-honda CD deluxe made it possible to move forward in a zigzag manner and reached just behind the front row of vehicles waiting for signal to change color from Red to yellow and Green. We both loved this bike because the power packed with it easily pulls two of us without crying even in top speeds or in up gradient roads with smooth gearshifts. People at the showroom told me “To get the best performances, just keep the chains oiled and tight after every 2300-2500 Km, use only sealed and best engine Oil”

I said “One like Castrol”

“There is nothing falls under the category “like Castrol”. Use Castrol and hear the sound of engine and Gear box. ”

Right now, Neha, and I are just behind a Pulsar and flanked by a Gladiator on our left and a Hero Splendor on our right. Further right, there were two rows of buses, packed with passengers. They and the people inside the switched off engines of both A/c and Non A/c cars are trying vainly to mop up the constant flow of sweats. The fumes from the two old model kick-start Rajdoot and Yezdi Bikes parked just beside the row of buses further worsened their conditions. The owners are aged people, considering immediate movements after the signal clearance, possibly kept the engine on for the inherent starting troubles in these Bikes. A rumor of an accident at the next traffic Island adjoining to Highway spread up like wildfire. I put my bike on the stands and Neha jumped out from the Pillion rider’s seat.

Changing from her Maroon-red Baranasi sari in the adjoining change room of the Marriage registrar, she now wore a forest green Salwar- Kameez matching with her light brown skin contrasting with my light pink formal shirt and off white trousers. The aroma of two fresh big Juhi Garlands now placed circling the Headlamp and the handle bar immediately above it, mixed with the usual perfume of escape, Calvin Klein from Neha is still keeping us fresh despite the heat of the bright sunrays of 10 A.M morning. Except the trace of tears now dried up and partly damaging her light make up and the pair garlands, there is no other evidence of our hours-ago legal marriage.

Neha is looking at the Hero-Splendor with affection and curiosity. Only about three –weeks back in another Splendor, we did the most remarkable and successful great escape which culminated to our simple and legal marriage few hours ago.

Neha’s parents did not agree to our marriage proposal, took away her mobile, and sent her to their ancestral village house. Neha managed to get another mobile and sent me a SMS. This time Asis a friend of mine and an active member of Panthers, a Bikers club, extended a helping hand. Neha, my friend and me made a plan to rescue Neha.

Neha’s village was about 200 Km from here. My bike was well known to Neha’s family and it could be easily spotted. Asis arranged a Splendor bike of the Biker’s club in the adjoining town. I reached the town by train and took the Bike.

As per the plan, I entered the village at sharp 6.30 P.M. Neha pretended to be sick and except her everybody in the family was in the Village temple for the “Sandhya-Aarati”. The sound of trumpets and bells muffled the sound of Splendor parked just outside the backyard of the house.

Neha came out and we left the village in a minute keeping the headlights off. Just near the main road, as per her direction we took a narrow cart road. The pale moonlight was the only pathfinder and expecting the bumps ahead, I asked her to hold the clamps at the back firmly.

The front suspensions lessened our trouble and I could reach the bye-pass road near the adjoining town within half an hour. We still had another half an hour time for Neha’s family members to return from temple and discover her sudden disappearence.

In the Bye pass road with head lights on the bike smoothly obeyed the twist of my wrist and the speedometer soon pointed to 60 kmph, We passed a tea shop and then the rearview mirror showed a bike was following us. Neha’s family has enough influences and I apprehended a danger. The bike with a Pillion rider appeared to be a powerful one and may soon overtake us.

Craning her neck, Neha could guess the Pillion rider and she told me the Pillion rider appears to be a female. However, we have to make another half a kilometer to reach the Highway Junction. My friend Asis is waiting there with few other members of the Panthers.

As we stopped near the Junction, the bike following us turned out to be another member of the Club. Asis made some last minute modification in the plan. We two are not going to Calcutta right now until the heat and anger of the family cools of. Asis shall reach Calcutta and submit our papers with documents to a marriage registrar. He also happens to be a member of Panther Club.

A group of six shall accompany us to Tirath Gar a hill temple about 200Km from here. We shall get married there first and registry marriage later on in Calcutta, which due to legal formalities may take about two weeks waiting time. Marrying in both ways shall make us trouble free.

We started our respective Mo-bikes and soon took NH-43 and proceeded forming an inverted V. Ex-army captain Trehan and his wife on Bullet was at the front, we were in the immediate follow-up, near the left side shoulder of the NH, flanked by another bike towards the carriage, Rawat and his friend in other two bikes were at the rear end.

Captain Trehan at the beginning told us that in this place people go to Tirathgar in a pilgrimage tour at Night and he wanted it to look like that, not a “Barrati”. At stopovers, we must speak and behave like that.

I never drove in a highway and initially I admit, at the end of the bye pass, the site of highway chilled my spine. The chill soon turned into Joy.

The rhythmic sound of the Bullet changing tune up and down at the stroke of the skilled wrist of Captain Trehan while other bikes were playing the background score made me to forget my nervousness and to feel different.

I felt as if this is a symphony altogether and although a novice I am doing fine not missing a single note of my part. In the open and clear highway, the speedometer of my never before driven speed now ticked 100 KMPH.

Soon a spire way along a small hill Of “Keshkal” came up. But the marvel and skill of negotiating the curves up and down the hill at ease at an appropriate speed, narrowing, widening of the arms of V and sometimes breaking and once again forming the inverted V was still possible as we were playing a different tune.

At the end of the spire, we stopped near a dhaba. The owner was well known to Captain Trehan and he started preparing the masala Tea without even hearing our orders. We all sat on a cot, the hot glasses of tea came soon.

Captain Trehan said” So dear Young man and Lady, don’t feel nervous now. From now onwards, this is BRO( Border Road Organisation) road and I am the Ex-army contractor for maintaing this road, this is our area, no one dare to touch your hairs even. And someone told me that you bought your bike only months ago. The way you came with us do not seem so. How did you feel”

I said “Even yesterday I was little nervous. But, after making this trip, I feel I am a changed man. I have a never before felt confidence and feel of freedom and all it is possible for your group.”

Neha now broke her long silence “The long forgotten wind of fresh air made me feel something different. I felt as if I am flying.” I felt the same as my pillion rider felt.

Mrs Trehan raised her glass and before drinking her tea said “You won’t believe, for the same reason, we prefer our bullet than our Honda City in a long drive like this.”

Captain Trehan finished his tea almost, sipping the remaining he said “You Know something, the movement in a car is mostly straight and sometimes left or right. However, on a bike life is added by all the swing it offers, gives you the feeling very close to flying.”

We were about to get to our feet, Rawat’s friend Varun added, “I not only enjoy that sense of flying, I get the emptiness that I deserve to get from my daily chores. Whenever I manage to get an off day from my work I take out my Kawasaki and come to highway. After an hour, it is only me, my bike and the elements of bike. This experience reinvigorates me for the coming whole week.”

Rawat and all other smiled, Captain said “ So Varun that is the secret of your looking so fresh. I shall try out this”

Mrs Trehan Joined the Laughter “ Do not leave me alone. We shall make it together.”

On our way to Tirathgar a feel of Guilt was engulfing both of us. We were until then not even members of Panthers, but my new friends made the overnight Biking only to get us married, to make our sincere wishes fruitful. Biking possibly, makes people heart wider than ocean, quite unthinkable for car owners to form such a club and to become a friend in need and they are really friends indeed. Until then Biking to me was a convenient means of transport with an advantage of freedom of movement. Now I redefined my Biking. Sensing their greatness, we erased the feel of guilt but even then we both were marooned. We were missing sincerely the absence of another friend in our marriage, Our CD 100 Bike. The bike brought us closer and once on a small trip together on this bike, I proposed her and she tapped my shoulder to reciprocate.

We reached Tirathgar just before the dawn. Captain offered to do the “Kanyadaan”. Mrs Trehan gifted Neha a maroon colored Varanasi sari that she wore for the marriage. The Yellow Sun-rays of the dawn fell on her head as blessings when I was putting vermilion on her forehead.

Mrs Trehan, a practicing lawyer, advised us to wait and stay away from Calcutta till the formalities of notice period of Registry marriage is over. Captain Trehan arranged us a guest house at Vizag, just adjoining the sea beach.

Two-weeks later,We came back to Calcutta, released our CD 100 bike from the Bike stand of the station and straight went to Marriage registar’s office.

Shifting her gaze she saw the Ninza, which shifted from its previous position now managed to find a space on the right now just ahead of us.

Neha said, “That bike is wonderful nah. Looks like very costly”

I said ‘yeah, costly enough and near to budget of many people here on their mobike right now, wishing to buy a 4- wheeler. That Powerful sport Bike costs nowhere less than 4.8 lakh on road”

Neha caught hold my forearms “ Rajesh, When we get a car, this mobike shall also remain with us”

“ Simply because you love it and our ….”

“ Apart from that Rajesh.”

She is from a multi-car owned rich family “Even being a pillion rider just beside you, the wind of fresh air that falls on both of us, gives the feeling of obvious freedom. Haven’t you felt so?”

Nodding approvingly to her, I was also seeing the multiple rows of Bike and their owners, the four-wheelers and the Buses before me. This may be approximately a typical section of Indians through various economic levels.

“ Are you thinking something, worried?”

“ That was a past tense Neha. I was just looking the at the various brands of Mobikes”

“ Only Mobikes or their owners, or the owners own beautiful pillion riders?”

“ Darling you are none the less”

“You know something Neha which I just observed.”

“ Go On dear”

“The owners of the various brands of Mobike have one thing in common. They upgraded them from a bus passenger to a bike rider initially for the flexibility, independence, and convenience that a bike offers. But, something remains hidden which they discover little later.”

Neha said “ Hidden! They find diffculty in paying up their Bike Loan?”

“Not that I am talking right now. Eventually it is the affair they fall into; the joy and solace of the glide of the ride, the speed and to lose to the cruise.”

She came closer to me, and closed a button at the top of my shirt.

Enjoying the fragrance of escape and mild heat of her body I continued “The serious lovers of Bike possibly graduate to heavier and bigger two wheeled machines of their dreams. The other group buys a four-wheeler but repent it soon. The wisest of them keep it back in their garage for use as and when their call of freedom and joy make them to ride on it.”

Neha spotted something and whispered, “Look at that Black Pulsar”

The Pulsar is loaded with a family of four. The plus thirty young man in the rider’s seat securely kept the baby on a baby carrier bag keeping the baby and him face to face to each other, the straps are securely fastened at the man’s back. His wife, at the rear end of the Pillion rider, with a long loaded traveler bag, kept another elder child in between her and the man. Right after this crossing, the city road leads to the Highway of Digha, the nearest sea-beach. Possibly, they are on a weekend tour. They could have or have not upgrade them to a four-wheeler but possibly preferred to enjoy the freedom and Joy that their Pulsar guaranteed and better than the Volvo buses going directly to Digha.

Signal has just become yellow, we sat on our CD 100 and I whispered to Neha “This could be us after some years”

Neha blushed and hit me with her closed wrist “You naughty nut”

I said “But with a naughty girl too!”

The engines roared to start and it was the turn of bikes to leap into action. Within seconds, we moved out of the Signal Junction and crossed some of the Bikes including the Pulsar with full family. Just near the second cross from the Signal, the Splendor bike crossed us with a heavy noise.

Things have really Changed

The rituals were at the last stage. The groom is to put the vermilion on the forehead of the bride but suddenly the thin hands of the bride clasped the hand of the groom firmly and said “Stop it now, I said stop it now”. Bride Sneha did another action, She sprang up from her seat and untied the knot of her Banarassi Sari with the Dhoti of the groom and started leaving the Pandal.

It all happened in a spilt second. The Bride’s father, his uncle, the Priest of the Marriage and myself , the marriage registrar quickly recovered from the shock and disbelief and tried to reach Sneha as quickly as possible. Before we could reach, the groom and his friends came in her way.

She stopped near the New Motorbike, a gift from her father to the groom and shouted, “ I said clear my way before I turn nasty”

“Turn on any thing” the groom shouted none the less “ But tell us and everybody about the drama you made just now.”

“Tell everybody present here and me, did you chant a single mantra of this marriage?”

“Well! Not every words of it, how does it matter?”

“You could not because you were busy in talking to your friends and seeing the Bike. I shall tell every body that he nether chanted the seven words of promises and while taking rounds before the holy fire he looked neither at the fire nor at me but listening to the filthy abuses that his friends were hurling towards my father and the mobike”

One of the friends of the groom side now took over “What a bike, re-painted, bloody old model, two- stroke garbage. This is not worth even a Mopade. We were telling this hour before. But, your father seems to be a deaf. This is a deaf’s family. Till your father replaces the marriage shall be postponed.”

“No Postponement. This marriage is cancelled” Sneha tore the garland and threw it on the face of the Groom. She was shivering with anger; the village women surrounded her and her mother.

The villagers and Torab, the village head,brushed aside the crowd and made their way to reach the trouble spot. A few members of the Barrati party now attempted to thin out from the place. Torab shouted “ Catch hold all of them, don’t let none to go. Amol, you did not call us at the final round of talks with these people, now tell us what is all these going on?”

Amol, a schoolteacher of the village school is the father of Sneha. Sneha is the eldest of the two other unmarried daughters. About a month-back, he finalized the marriage of Sneha with a businessperson boy. He agreed to all the dowry demands of the groom side including a Mobike for the groom.

Torab said “ Amol, People are telling me that the friends of the groom were talking in a foul language about you and the Bike. We were hearing but tolerated enough. Now tell us did they specify anything about the bike, make or model at the day of marriage fixation? Problem is you did not call us. Otherwise…”

The father of the boy and head of the “Barrat” party said, “What is there to specify? Look at the Boy, his and our status. Not every thing is said. We asked for 10 tolas of Gold ornaments. Does it mean that he should give us gold plated third class thing? We have not checked that. It is all possible with this type of family.”

Now another villager said “ did you not come to his house many times before this marriage? Did you not check with us the credential of this family and the character of the girl. You were then speaking very high of them and now why you changed suddenly”

Another person looked at the two gold chains one bigger and another shorter that the groom was wearing. Pointing to the shorter one with his long finger he said “ I am the gold ornament shop owner. This one Amol purchased from me. Not only I but the hall mark in it, guarantee for the purity of gold.”

He touched the longer chain “ But this one?”

The father of the groom said “That is our own”

The Gold smith just had a look and touched the chain.” This one is gold plated”

One of the villager said “They buy fake ones when the buy from their own pocket”

Torab’s brother, Ali, the owner of Mo-bike show room in the Town said “ who said this is old and re-painted? We have the documents to prove that it arrived from the factory just this week. No one so far complained about the performance.”

He identified one person “ Ask this gentleman, about two month back he purchased the same model. Have you faced any trouble or the performance is below the mark and claims made by company?”

Amol said “ He is the younger brother of the groom”

Now Torab pulled his hand “ You were most abusive. Amol is of your father’s age. Beg pardon before him or we compel you to do that” Seeing the angry crowd before him the person obliged readily.

Torab was now fast in his action. He called the father of the groom to be near him

“ Now things are clear to me. We understand what a family you are. Any way, tell me what you want now. There are a variety of bikes in my brother’s “Gowdown” just a Km far from here. All of you go there in my vehicle and pick the one which you like. But that is only and all and before proceeding you and every body in the Barrat must seek seriously the pardon of my brother Amol and make it fast. Otherwise don’t blame us to straighten out thing in our own way.”

Sneha’s mother came from inside of the house “ TorabBhai Please come inside. Sneha is not listening to us.”

Sneha was now in her ordinary dress. As soon as Torab and I reached there she said in her usual calm voice “ Uncle you all did a good Job”

“ Yes Sneha ! Things are now settled now. They sought pardon of your father and he has pardoned them Now get dressed, time is running out”

Sneha said in her calm voice “ Uncle do not misunderstand me. I shall be misfit in this family. Tell them to go back. I will not marry this boy”

“ Sneha try to understand. You may do this but it shall be why difficult almost impossible to arrange your marriage once again. Besides this, you have other unmarried sister. Think of them and better revise your decision.”

Sneha said " Uncles, things should change now. Marriage is not a compelling thing to live. If the attitude of all other grooms family do not change we shall change ourselves to live life being unmarried than getting married to a family like this."

I said “ Sneha there is one more problem. Just an hour ago, this marriage was registered and all of us signed it. It can not be waived so easily. The groom’s side may make problem with me, and all of us. The law …”

“ I shall go for divorce then but certainly not stay married with this man. Uncle get me the papers I shall sign them”

Torab and I finally gave up. I shall have to talk to my seniors to find out an easier way other than divorce suit. That is a long and uphill task.

Five months later:

As a single marriage registrar I move to all most all the villages near by for the marriage occasion. Things have really changed now. Before performing the registration, I made it a point to take a declaration from both the side that there was no deal on dowry. Parents of this and the surrounding villages are getting their son and daughter married without any dowry demand. Things have really changed.

Sneha is getting married today to a close friend of me. My friend and his friends arrived an hour before. Instead of car or bus, all of them including the groom came on each of their own Mobike. The things have really changed.

.

ALL THAT DO NOT GLITTER ARE ALSO GOLD

That was an awesome and incredible day of gold prospecting in Zimbabwe. From the satellite images we identified an extensive area of Granite “Granite hill” with numerous intersections of smoky Quartz veins. We three from India and a local Geologist Jiban traveled in a Japanese made “truck” to that site. The vehicle failed just few kilometers away from Target area. We moved on foot and Jiban accidentally stumbled on an insitu Granite that contained some evidence of Gold Mineralization. Moving down the valley, we saw a fresh Deerskin on the top of a tall tree. Could it be an activity of a Leopard. Jeevan was walking further ahead of us in the narrow foot track of the forest. He suddenly disappeared. Was it a Leopards attack or something else happened to him? For full story along with some amateurish photographs, read on below

It all happened due to Jiban. We called him by Jiban and he frowned with a deep furrow on his forehead whenever we called him. His actual name is little different. He tried to rectify us but finally gave up.

Had Jiban not stumbled on the rock just near the shadow of the tree we could not find the lead to start with. Later on, his GPS failed due to cloudy sky. We headed towards nowhere and finally spent the night on a hilltop, near a Leopard’s den just below

We were evaluating Gold prospects of our Company’s business proposals in Zimbabwe with a local Business Man of Indian origin.

Many times if you can find a rock, occurring extensively in an area, do not neglect it as simple granite. There is a chance that within these rocks there are small bands of smoky gray colred rocks (smoky quartz). If nature so likes, it may reward these smoky quartzes with impregnation of precious yellow metal “Gold”.

“Morning shows the day” and the cloudy day began with the absence of our local guide. We two Indian and the local geologist Jiban decided to depend on GPS and proceeded for the 200 KM journey in our Japanese made “truck”. We previously identified this area after studying the satellite images of the area.

It is actually a covered jeep at the front and an attached tub at the back, suitable for our purpose to carry field equipment like Power drills, “Lil giny” (Portable generator), survey equipment, Spades and pick axes, and geophysical instruments. The “Truck” looks like “Genio” and “Bolero Camper” in India built by Mahindra.

The Japanese vehicle did well in Main tarred road and took only 90 minutes to reach Kadoma, 142 Km from Harare. As per our GPS, we should move from here towards South- East for 9 Km to reach the Granite hill, the target area for occurrence of gold bearing smoky quartz veins, intruding the Granite. The single lane tar road ended after 4 Km and the treacherous spiral mud built road leading to granite hill began.

After crossing two hairpin bends, it appeared to be a real uphill task for the “Truck”. The engine, after few coughs and jerks, stopped. Roberts, our driver friend assured us in the beginning but after half an hour said, “It may take an hour to know the exact position.”

We need to cross this hill, go down a little and then once again go up to reach the destination as per our GPS. We could make it by walking alone but not with our equipment.

It was Jiban’s idea to go by this truck. Earlier we planned to go by both Xylo and this truck. The xylo would carry us and this truck should follow us with the equipment. Jiban, well acquainted with local constraints compelled us to drop this idea. “In a gold bearing province moving with two vehicles may draw the attention of locals and we may have to face problems.”

Opening the bonnet of the truck, Robert was trying for the last one hour. Time was running out. Except Jiban we three were talking about our Bailadila days in 1980. Willy’s four-wheel jeep was our constant companion and it never failed us in the rugged hilly terrains of Bailadilla.

We decided to better walk some distance and find some evidence of Gold Mineralization. We reached the peak of this small hill; the adjoining granite hill was far away.

It was a dead walk for an hour and except few drifted quartz pieces from the adjoining Granite hill; we found nothing The Sun was just above our head. Locating a big shadow, we thought to take a break and better have a look at the map.

Jiban was ahead of us and we called him to come back to us. He looked at us, hit something, and fell in the ground. We ran to his rescue and then we all sat there only. Sipping coffee and munching Sandwich I was wandering what hit him so hard.

Jiban said He hit something very hard just near the bush. Covered by dry leaves and bushes, I found, what we were looking for.

It was a big piece of rock protruding a little from the soil. The yellow sulphide stains on the rock, intersected by numerous smoky quartz veins studded with few grains of Gold Nuggets gave us the first hand evidence of a gold bearing zone.

Checking with Compass, the strike (Length direction), dip (inclination) amount, and direction of the rock matched well with the regional strike of the insitu rock. We were sure that this small exposure was not a drifted rock but an insitu. Charged with this finding we started searching around the place for another one to confirm our observation but found none.

Left with no option, we walked down the valley, covered with deep forest. After walking a little, foul smell entered our nose and Jeevan saw something in one of the tall trees and showed us.


Up in the tree there was a skin of a deer killed freshly.

Jivan told us it could be Leopard’s unfinished job. The leopard can drag a prey, which could weigh two to three times its own weight, high up in a tree. After making a kill, the leopard may eat at the site, drag the remains of the prey by the neck in its mouth, and pull it high up into a tree. The carcass is hung over the tree branches so other animals will not steal the food. The leopard will eat the remains of the prey in the next few days.

We had only pocketknives for sampling, except Jiban, we were soaked with beads of sweats on our forehead. Jeevan took out few masks of strange looking human face and diesel soaked dry sticks from his bag. We wore the masks at the back of our face and kept the sticks ready in our hand. Jiban assured us that the mask should prevent us from an attack from the back and the lighted sticks from a face-to-face attack. Jeevan led us the way towards the valley.

The narrow zig- zag foot track amid the long trees on both sides took suddenly a left turn and we crossed the turn we could not find Jiban but only his torch till live. We started shouting for him but there was no reply.

Facing diametrically opposite to each other, we formed a big circle, and once again shouted for him. We heard his voice and it appeared he was probably unhurt but might need a rescue.

Following his voice direction, we were running and we heard him once again. Person at my back suddenly pulled me with full force and his timely action saved me otherwise I would have been just like Jiban.

Craning our neck we carefully stood at the immediate outer periphery of a pit in which Jeevan fell and shouting for our help. We came to a safest possible approach nearest to a pit and with our lighted torches could see him clearly.

We threw a fresh diesel soaked stick and a match box so that he could help himself until we could find something to approach him. He lit the torch and with that, he was pointing something in up direction and disappeared soon.

Looking in that direction we soon found a horizontal opening appeared like an adit mouth and soon another vertical shaft. Mean while Jiban came out from that adit opening and his opened his fist and shouted

“Gentlemen, see what I have brought for you. Look at these dull looking stones; they are with the glittering nuggets.

With delicate blows of hammer, we broke the dull looking rocks into small fragments and put them on gently inclined chamois leather. The gold particles were caught in the leather.

An adit for entry into Gold Vein by illegal Miners

">Through the adit opening, we went inside and reached the place where Jivan fell down. We went down little more to collect some more samples. Some people illegally opened up this place; they even made a small vertical shaft also and mined gold nuggets but stopped as ground conditions became hard for them.
Vertical Shaft made by Illegal Miners
However, we found all the strong evidence of further continuity of this gold bearing zone down the depth.

Jeevan suggested going further down the valley and there could be a river. That could be the only place to meet the people from villages where we might hope for a night accommodation.

">Before we could reach the river, we saw another interesting thing. The whole area just near the river was dug up and people were engaged in other activities than mere taking bathing or fishing. They already made many pits and were busy in taking out the rubbles from these places. At one place, with the river water they wash the rubbles and pan for gold. Musclemen buy the gold they recover from these places at the weekend. The soiled few dollar notes are not sufficient to buy enough corn or Maize to feed the whole family. The malnutrition of the children that they brought along with them was sufficient to tell us that these simple villagers were speaking the truth.

Jiban spoke to them in the local language and told us that it would take us an hour to reach the adjoining hilltop where we may find some place to stay for the night.

Afternoon was setting in and we decided to take a short cut to reach the hill than take the long spires. However, the shortcut path was through neck deep grass. We were cursing Jeevan for taking this route. However, he was encouraging us and telling us the demerits of the spires. Not only it was longer, it is dangerous after the dusk. No sooner he finished his talking we all heard some movements in the adjoining bush. Suddenly the movements stopped, I felt a cold flow in my spine, and all of us stood motionless as if to become easy and tasty prey of someone.

We saw something in pale olive color firmly approaching us and there it was. An armed forest guard with a sten dangling at his back stood in our way and shouted in local language. Jivan took out the special permit of all of us and showed to him. He told us that he was sorry for taking us as poachers only.

Jiban said, “We saw, down in the valley, a deer skin. Possibly a Leopard…”

The guard broke in laughter “They killed almost all the leopards for their skin. The only Leopard, which lived in a den just at the down-slope of the forest rest house of the hilltop, did not come back to his den for a week. Possibly, he had the same fate. Have you seen any blood stains around the tree on which you saw the skin of the deer?”

We did not and that was a poacher’s job who kept the skin atop a tall tree for drying.

However, right then, the mention of guesthouse delighted us but he shook his head.

“ No ! for some reasons that has been stopped. There is an open tin shed at the back yard of the guesthouse. He said that accommodation means an open tin shed. Enough firewood is stored there for cooking and the fountain water is just nearby. But you better keep the fire live for the whole night to keep you warm and safe.”

“Safe means do you….”

“While going up you will cross a small hill fountain, the water from this fountain flows down the valley. Sometimes, at night, the remnant animals of this forest go there to drink water. They rarely come to hilltop but for your own safety you must keep the wood burning. Who knows the lone leopard is safe and is back to his den. But about half an hour ago I saw a covered jeep going up the hilltop. If they already occupied the tin shed, you may have to share it with them. ”

">The site of the hill fountain lured us to soak our body for a while. We deserved a bath after the whole day’s episode. Although the idea of sharing the accommodation with the passengers of covered Jeep was nagging us, we forced ourselves to keep it aside.

We did not know until then how much surprise was waiting for us.

The “XYLO”, parked outside the rest house, was unmistakably ours. The number plate pointed so. In our last conversation with Roberts, we just mentioned that we were near the river where people were panning gold.

Robert informed the Main office in Harare about the breakdown of the vehicle and the possible need of the spares. Harare office promptly sent the Xylo along with a Mechanic, spares, cooked food, water and sleeping bags. Dropping the mechanic with Roberts, the XYLO took an hour to reach the panning site and was redirected by the villagers to reach here.

We all told Jiban “ Just look at the job done by XYLO and the Indian driver Samuel” Jeevan said nothing.

The food from Harare was awesome. We skipped the comfortable stay inside the XYLO.

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">The fire was on in the Tin-shed and each one of us narrated their Jungle days. But, nothing was like this. The sound of waterfall and the sound of the herd of animals down the valley quenching their thirst in the background of chirping of Crickets was a rare orchestra session for us. Suddenly there were continued alarms of barking deers. One of us who spent almost his lifetime in Forest told us “The Guard fellow was wrong. He has come back”

Jeevan said “Who has comeback”

I whispered “ Possibly the Leopard. The Barking deers…”

I could not finish. One of us said “All of look at your back. Look at the roof of the Guesthouse and there look at the top of XYLO. There is another one”

We saw pairs of glowing eyes and our heartbeat became very fast.

Jeevan took out a roasted chicken leg from the plate and raised his glass of Whiskey. “Oh! They are… wildcats only” he raised a piece of burning wood and threw the roasted chicken.

After all, who was afraid then of hungry wildcats?

FEATHERS OF JUNGLE FOWL

FEATHERS OF JUNGLE FOWL

PRADIP KUMAR BISWAS

Budhia loves the nature and moves in the forest. He collects medicinal herbs and sells in the weekly market just to earn his bread. One day while returning he accidentally pulls the cords of a trap laid by someone to catch the Jungle Fowls. Massod, the guest house keeper, negotiates with him and takes the whole lot of Jungle fowls. by just giving him a bottle of whiskey and repayment of the interest of loan that he gave him. Masood is a greedy and clever man and earns money from the people like him by money lending and even compelling their wives to entertain the guests of the guesthouse. That night Massod earned a lot from a guest by providing him roasted jungle fowls in the dinner and arranged Somebari to entertain the guest in his room. Somebari was the proposed bride of Budhia but due to a trick pulled by Masood, the marriage could not take place. In that chilly night, Budhia’s father, an asthma patient, became very sick. Budhia needed firewood to keep his father warm. He ran to guesthouse where Masood stockpiled firewood. He was about to stumble on a red sari near the Sofa just opposite the closed bedroom of a guest and heard the moans of Somebari from the room of a guest. He recognized this red sari which he gifted Somebari just before the marriage. In the back yard of the guesthouse, he found out the firewood and heaps of the peeled feathers of the killed Jungle fowls. He took the firewood and the feathers also. He thought that firewood and the feathers burnt together may keep his father warmer.(Read more for the full story)

In the background of the setting sun, the man standing motionless in the foothill jungle is not a silhouette. He is a local tribal. At the end of the day he was returning to his house, up in the hill. A small white cloth around his loins is the only respect for this late December chilly wind.

The other two people at the watchtower of the hilltop forest rest house are Smith and Arup, one Indian and another, a foreign national. They were trying to capture, through their movie camera, the valley and the far-off hills in the background of setting sun. The mist and the late afternoon fogs were disturbing them frequently and they were about to give up.

Smith whispered, “Look at that silhouette figure we just saw few minutes ago. He is now sitting on the ground and is pulling something.”

Arup hid his smile “This is the time for the birds to return to their nest. He has placed a trap long before. He is now pulling the cord of the trap to catch the birds live.”

Zooming at Budhia, Smith started his video camera and was soon disappointed. “He is now nowhere”

Arup said “Well! He must have gone to those bushes and tall tree, he may be seen soon in this slope of the hill”

Arup was correct. The tele-lense tracked him down the hill slope. Budhia was in his early forties but the power in his muscular body was negotiating at ease against the steep curves of the hill slope. He is now seen carrying a bamboo pole on his shoulder. The baskets tied at the both ends of the pole were swinging vigorously.

Smith was busy in capturing all these in his camera and said, “Oh lovely! His both baskets are loaded with big birds” Arup looked at the monitor of the video and zoomed the birds “These are jungle Fowls.”

Massod, the guesthouse keeper, brought the afternoon tea and laid the table at the Lawn. from the view-point tower, Smith signaled him to bring the tea over there.

Massod frequently gets generous tips from Smith in cash and full liquor bottles in kind.

In this guest house foreigners are very frequent. Masood can speak English by connecting fragments of words but he can understand very quickly. The eyes of this neck less plump man rotate like radar and can read a face quickly. As he was pouring tea, Smith asked

“What is there in Dinner?”

Masood replied, “Fresh Fish roast Sir. Big fish, river. If you no like, then Chicken”.

Smith quipped, “No Chicken, I want Jungle Fowl”

Massod bowed “Sir, tomorrow lunch I try, Evening no available”.

Smith signaled him to see his video monitor, “Have a look. Get this man; he has not gone far off by now.”

He threw a five hundred rupee and signaled him to go. Masood halted suddenly “ he may ask for a bottle along with money”

Smith shouted “O.k. you miser! Give him that also but make it fast.”

Arup was silent he stood up and started for leaving the room “I am leaving for the drilling site, possibly you want to stay back”

Smith nodded affirmative.

Massod was only worried about the bootleggers of evening time who may easily lure Budhia to exchange the whole catch for just few bottles of Mahua (country liquor). Although difficult for his heavy body even walking fast, he did as much as possible. On the turn of the spire road, near the guesthouse, Masood spotted Budhia, along with the catch of the day and he was relieved.

“So you thought you can sneak away from me without paying the interest of loan. You worked for more than two weeks in the mines, got your payment on 1st itself but since then you are evading me.” Masood pretended to be very angry.

Budhia replied, “Ask your collector, Samsul. He caught me at the gate. He made me drunk and ran away with the whole pay packet. I am hounding him but he disappeared.”

Masood told dryly “That is the matter between you and him. But I want my money right now.”

Budhia prayed before him “Give me some time, tomorrow is the market day. I may get some money.”

Massod laughed, “If you are thinking of selling these Jungle Murgahs (Fowls) in the Haat (weekly market) Ranger saheb is also coming tomorrow.”

Budhia was angry now “I sell the Jadi- Buttis (medicinal herbs) not these birds. I am sure only you laid this trap for your guests at the guesthouse. I wanted to release the trap but accidentally I pulled the wrong cord. Right now if I release these birds they shall be the easy prey of the wildcats. Tomorrow morning they shall fly in the sky”

Masood shouted “Wrong or right, you only have pulled the cord and my two guests recorded that in their video camera. But if I serve the roasts of these fowls for their dinner they cannot show your photograph to Ranger Sahib. But if you release these fowls this evening or tomorrow morning they may fly in sky but you shall be in trouble. Ranger saheb after seeing your clippings shall put you behind the bar.”

Budhia put down the bamboo pole and the cages on the ground. He now realized that along with these birds he is also trapped.

Massod looked at him and poured some honey of kindness “ O.K I shall see to it that the guests pay me a good tip and I promise the expected tip may clear a good part of your interest.”

Masood took the two cages and fearfully looked at the Bamboo pole lying near Budhia. He released one big bird, took out a liquor bottle and signaled him.

“Take this bird for your father, good for asthma. And after the whole days hard work you deserve this bottle. This English daru (Liquor) is good for relieving the pain.” Masood left quickly towards the guesthouse.

Masood sat on the walls of the culvert before the portico of the guesthouse. Moping the beads of sweats from his forehead, he touched the feel of Rs. 500 note and the remaining bottle inside his loose dress.

There was one more half filled liquor bottle lying hidden here. He saw Sombari and Manglu waiting for him for the daily wages. Sombari is the cook of the guesthouse and his husband Manglu is the gardener.

He yelled for Manglu, “Manglu, take these birds, Dress one big and one small bird for roast. Sombari shall do the rest. Smith saheb is very happy with you and he has left that bottle and this fifty rupee for your tip.”

Seeing the glistening eyes of Manglu “Keep one bird for you, have a nice evening, Sombari shall stay back.”

Manglu stared at Massod but obediently followed him. Masood calculated fast. He has to keep his promise for the perfume bottle and mirror that Sombari was demanding for long. This investment shall keep her going for the post- dinner entertainment of Smith. Calculating the quick and good return, Masood felt happy.

Draining the last drop of whiskey that Masood gave him Budhia was boiling with anger. He should have checked the bottle. Masood is an usual cheater. This time also he must have mixed either water or Mahua flower wine with this whiskey.

Two years back he took two thousand rupees from Masood for marrying Sombari. But Masood double-crossed him. He gave five hundred rupees more to Manglu, the gardener of the rest house.

Sombari’s father preferred Manglu for obvious reasons. Budhia was invited to attend the marriage. He sent his father along with the red sari and silver bangles that he purchased for his proposed marriage with Sombari. After her marriage he saw her several times wearing that Sari and the Bangles going to guesthouse in the evening. Budhia knew her evening assignments in the guesthouse.

He was about to release the bird still tied by a small rope. It is already dark. This fowl cannot fly. Now It is an easy prey for the wildcats. He has a rare herb in his house. The bird roasted with that herb give a good relief for asthma patients like his father. Remembering his father’s face he decided to keep the fowl and got to his feet.

The herb medicine mixed with fresh honey did excellent job. The hearty meal and clear breathing made his father sleepy and he put him in the cot covering his body with a small blanket.

The room requires mending, the cold wind enters the room through many holes in the walls but he cannot help. The fireplace was empty; Massod’s men took away the firewood making false promises to his father. He could find some, hidden in one corner and an earthen pot. He selected some herb and mixing them with the rest of firewood in the earthen pot made it a fire-pot.

He kept the firepot under the cot but preferred to sleep outside. The smell and the fume of herbs burning slowly with the firewood are not good for him.

He made a small fire over a small heap of dried leaf, took out a good old bottle of “Mahua” from his cellar, and drained the contents in two gulps.

The colorless liquids together with roasted fowl were sufficient not only to keep him sealed from the blowing cold wind but also from the whole day’s episode. However, he found no success in the later one; rather the past started circling like a movie reel.

He knows this forest like the back of his palm and likes moving in the forest than working in the mines. Upon a self-compromise, he works in the mine for that number of days sufficient for the food for his family. In the remaining days, he moves in the forest from dusk to dawn.

The tall trees, shrubs and medicinal herbs growing underneath, birds, jackals are his friends. He picks up the medicinal herbs and the roots and sells them in the weekly market. The locals call him as Vaidyaji (herbal doctor). Budhia enjoys the recognition.

The small hill river meanders around this forest for seven times. These places are the rest shelters for him. He likes the corner near the small waterfall, the birthplace of this river and very often takes the rest for a while. The jungle fruits, arrowroot, occasional huge potatoes are good enough for recharging his stomach.

The recent mining has spoiled this forest. The river is drying up. The tall trees are dying. The birds, beers and the jackals are vanishing one after another. The simple tribals like him are all captives of people like Masood. The thought of Masood made him angry. He threw the empty bottle. The remaining drops of liquid flew to fire and the fire flared up.

He heard a groaning sound of his father and sprang up. The firepot extinguished and the room was very cold. The old man was almost in a state of breathlessness. Budhia fished out two herb roots, made a paste in the earthen mortar quickly, and placed it in the tongue of the old man. The old man was little relieved. All the old man requires now is the fire. Budhia ran towards the guesthouse to get some firewood.

Budhia found Masood in the kitchen snoring heavily but there was not a single heap of firewood. He moved from there towards the backyard store. Possibly the firewood stocks are lying there.

He was about to stumble on something near the Sofa just opposite the closed bedroom of Smith. He recognized the stumbling objects as the same red Sari and bangles that he gifted Somebari on her marriage.

The full moon of the midnight has flooded the backyard. There were two big heaps and a single heap of firewood. Some one as if decorated the single heap with piles of feathers peeled fresh from the flesh of Jungle fowl.

As he approached the heap, he found another tiny feathers heap. It could be red; moonlight has partly obscured the color. He did not stumble on it this time.

The backyard is just opposite the bedrooms of the guests. The sound of moans and another shrill sound were entering his ears. His trained ears of jungle were baffled at first. It appeared as if a Hyena has just de-skinned a big fowl.

He picked up the small heap of firewood adding the last one found just now. Running towards his house he thought, “This heap along with these feathers and skins of Jungle fowls shall burn more, it shall give my father more warmth.”